Anesthesia and Bad Ideas

 Here's the thing. I've made some TERRIBLE decisions in the past. That's the only disclaimer I have for my behavior in my early 20s.

  

  Meeting with a surgeon who does mastectomies for women with breast cancer:

 ME: Will you just take these things out? They're so horrible, I can't even begin to express how much I hate them.

HIM: I don't take any kind of part in any kind of plastic surgery. It's a bastardization.

ME: Ok, I admit it was a mistake, getting them, but at the time I was convinced it was divine intervention.

HIM: How do you mean?

ME: I won them in a bowling contest on the radio in Las Vegas.

HIM: You bowled for boobs and won?

ME: Yessireee, and I thought it would make a great story for when I get old and am not pulling as many shenanigans out of my hat.

HIM: I'll do it for $1500 if you'll let me tell people that story, and he laughed and laughed.

The part I didn't tell him: Everyone at work heard it on the radio and when I got to the restaurant to work, they all congratulated me on my new tits. My ex boyfriend and I decided I needed to practice before the contest at 8am, and so we bowled all night. Then at 7:30am this girl showed up and started bowling 300s and half the contestants left. We all talked about our bee stings apologetically. When they started the contest they announced, "This contest will be a drawing, and nobody will know the number until after everyone's bowled. The radio's call number was 94.9 and I bowled a 92 and won.  They interviewed my boyfriend about how his life would be affected by my new boobs, and he wept and said, "I'd love her either way!" and the other bee stings were like, "Awwwwww! That's so sweet."